


The Better to Love You With

by gabapple



Series: NLAverse [22]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Camping, Canon Compliant, Fairy Tale Retellings, In The Dark Of Night | yoihorrorzine, M/M, Mistaken Identity, NLA Canon, Nicknames, Post-Series, Pre-Marital FIGHTING, Present Tense, Red Riding Hood - Freeform, Somehow, Spooky, Wolves, bit of angst, forest, gasp!!!, getting handsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 10:23:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20526449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabapple/pseuds/gabapple
Summary: Yuuri goes camping in the spooky woods just outside of Saint Petersburg with his fiance Viktor... and it's good that he knows him so well, or they might not have made it out alive.





	The Better to Love You With

**Author's Note:**

> This is the piece that I wrote for the YoI horror zine, In the Dark of the Night, which I was asked to participate in as a guest. :') What an honor! 
> 
> For some reason, I decided to write from Yuuri's perspective, even though it's extremely not my forte. Many thanks to Mamo, Cori, Priti, and many others for helping me with this. The pressure to perform was REAL and I agonized for many sleepless nights over it. Fingers crossed that it'll creep you out at least a little bit!

Yakov helps unload the car when they get to the campsite in a forest an hour east of Saint Petersburg. “I will collect you tomorrow morning... You’ll be safe as long as you stay together.” 

Despite the caution, he doesn’t seem worried, just annoyed.

“You’re not staying?” Yuuri isn’t surprised at all.

“No. Not this time.  _ Vitya _ is your coach, and he has… his own style of teaching.” 

Yuuri isn’t sure what Yakov means, though he has a pretty good guess. Viktor claims this is about initiating him into the Sports Champions Club rink, but he knows his fianc é too well; Viktor either wants to screw around in the woods or he’s roped Yakov into some kind of prank to haze him. Judging by the way Viktor’s ignoring them, crouched and cooing at Makkachin very pointedly- almost guiltily -he’s guessing it’s the latter. 

But Yuuri doesn’t scare easy, and Viktor should know that by now.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” 

Once Yakov leaves, the pair picks a spot to make camp in a little ways off the trail. The ground is flat, dirt and grass stamped out for their tent and a circle of stones left from previous campers for a fire. A good place for a one-night stay.

“So what was with you and Coach Feltsman?”

“Hm?”

“On the way here. Got kind of prickly.” 

Blushing, Viktor busies himself at the tent bag, pulling the stakes and poles and dumping them onto the ground. “Oh. He’s just grumpy that I called in one of the favors he owed me. Here, help me with this.”

Yuuri grins, unrolling the tent from its bag. “You mean he doesn’t like being your chauffeur?” 

“He was insisting it was an easy drive and I could have taken us, myself. Now where’s that tarp?” Viktor digs around, and comes up empty-handed. “I know I packed it. Yuuka, is it in one of your bags?”

“You can drive?” 

Viktor stiffens, skin a pale green in the diffused light of the setting sun. He studies Yuuri, biting his lip like he’s tasting his words before committing to them. “Technically, yes. I have a license, anyway. Maybe the tarp got left in the car?”

Viktor is good at changing the subject, and even better at surprising him, but Yuuri’s been learning. He can’t get away with it that easily. “Coach Feltsman can’t be far.” Yuuri retrieves his phone from his hoodie’s pocket. “Especially if he’s hanging around. Damn, no signal.” 

“Why would he—? That’s not good.”

“What? He said he’d meet us where he dropped us off. That’s no big deal. Unless you were planning something  _ else, _ Vitya.”

Viktor shoots him a flat look at that, frowning. “No. I meant… it might rain tonight. We needed that tarp. I  _ know _ I packed it,  _ Yuuka.” _

A brow raise. A stare. The rise in tension pushing the temperature down with the sun. 

“Let’s just get a fire going so we can have dinner.” 

Viktor smiles. Small. Tight-lipped.  _ Plastic. _ “Sure. That’s fine.”

Low blood sugar. That’s all it is, Yuuri’s sure. Neither of them are cheerful on an empty stomach, and it’s definitely past dinner time. They go through the bags, pulling out what they’ll need to make sausage rolls using Yurio’s recipe with Makkachin at Viktor’s side like a noon-day shadow. It’s a broadcast of Viktor’s mood; a neon sign, no matter how well he hides it on the surface. He’s upset for  _ some _ reason. Yuuri can tell. Being called out? 

Big baby.

“Damn.” Viktor sits back in the dirt, and Makkachin is immediately in his lap, licking his cheek. 

“What?”

“The kindling. I  _ know _ I pulled it from the car, brought it up here…” 

Yuuri looks over at the cooler, their backpacks, the few paper sacks of groceries, the discarded, half-formed tent, sleeping bags. There’s no wood bundle. “Where did it go?”

“I don’t know.” He frowns. “Something isn’t right.”

“Maybe Coach Feltsman repacked some stuff. Check the other bags.”

“I just did.” 

Rolling his eyes, Yuuri moves over to check, himself. He finds what he expects in the bags that he carried, himself, as well as a cooler full of vodka. “Are you sure this isn’t your fire starter?” 

Viktor peers into the cooler, then at Yuuri with a crooked smile. “Funny. But no.”

Yuuri shuts it with a thunk. “Guess we’ll have to hold this hostage until Coach Feltsman comes back, then.”

“....Maybe we should probably get our own wood until then, yeah? This isn’t Yakov’s usual place, but I don’t think anything will happen.”

“Okay.” 

“We just need to stay together and we’ll be fine, Yuuka. Like Yakov said.” 

“I’m not scared.” 

“I know. But these Russian forests, they’re not like the ones in Japan. They’re ancient, and you know, the wolves…” 

“Don’t even try it, Vitya. I figured you were trying to haze me, but wolves? Come on. You can do better than that.”

“Haze you? No, this is supposed to be team building.” 

“Please, all of that talk between you and Coach Feltsman in the car, him leaving us stranded, the missing camping gear… I had Phichit Chulanont as a roommate, Vitya. Pranks are nothing new to me.”

“I  _ wish _ that had been my plan, Yuuka! But we are really-really stranded here in the forest with no cell service, no tarp, no wood or matches, and no Yakov to come rescue us until morning!” 

Makkachin whines at their feet, and a hundred thousand leaves rattle in the wind.

“So it’s not a trick?”

“No!”

Yuuri takes a moment to process this, staring. “Then why didn’t you just drive us, Vitya?” If he has a license, why involve Coach Feltsman at all? He knows Viktor doesn’t have a car, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to get a rental. 

Viktor stalls by combing his fingers through Makkachin’s curly fur. “...he knows how to get here.”

“Uh-huh.” One of the reasons they were  _ in _ Russia was to improve Viktor’s relationships with his family, and forcing Yakov to be at his beck and call for every little thing seems like the exact opposite of what they want. “Not just because you don’t want to drive?”

“At least I know how!” 

“With the public transportation system in Japan, I don’t have to!”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have left, then.”

Silence. Then more wind. The snap of a branch. Yuuri sniffs and rights his glasses as he gets to his feet. 

“Wait— Yuuka, I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

“Hey Coach. Why don’t you get the tent set up while I get the firewood.” 

“Yuuka…” Viktor’s helpless, staring up at him.  _ Good. _ “You heard what Yakov said… we’re supposed to stay together!”

“You’re supposed to be the coach, now.  _ You _ make the rules.” Yuuri waits long enough for the reply to sink in, grabs his flashlight, and heads for the trail.

It’s already dark to begin with, but the gradual corkscrew of the dirt path leads Yuuri down to  _ deeper _ darks, where every surface seems to mold with spongy moss or lush fern and berry patch.The sun probably doesn’t ever touch some places here, and Yuuri’s sure this is where Viktor’s fairytales come from. The big trees stretch up and up, disappearing into swaths of black canopy, then drop back down with skinny trees that hang from emptiness like rope or skeletons in the beams of his flashlight.

He’s able to find plenty of options for kindling in only a few minutes, but he takes his time. They don’t fight often, but time to cool down always helps, and letting Viktor stew over his mistakes does, too. So Yuuri wanders, picking up bits of branch and bark strip, winding through the spruce and birch, mountain ash and pine. The fuller his arms become, the less useful his flashlight is, wedged between a spray of dried pine needles and linden leaves. He depends on the trail directly in front of him, cutting in and out of the foliage. 

But nightfall has changed the forest. And Yuuri is lost. 

Not enough to worry, though. Like Viktor, he isn’t afraid of much beside an existential crisis. Well, that and jellyfish, but there probably won’t be any of those out here. He hasn’t gone far, either, and he’s sure he can call for help. Despite being far from any towns, he also hasn’t heard much wildlife; they’re all alone in the woods as far as he knows. Viktor wanted it that way. To  _ bond _ with him. With team-building exercises. 

Yuuri smiles. Stupid Viktor. 

Stupid, cute Viktor. 

Thinking back on it, their fight seems pretty stupid, too. Not enough for him to ask for help, but enough to soften his heart. Make him miss his lover, and need to get unlost as soon as possible.

That’s when he sees the lantern; just a small pinprick of light in the distance. Viktor, guiding him home.

As he gets closer, Yuuri’s pleased to see the tent moved and set up, as well as all of their gear, everything neat and tidy. With the firewood, they can make dinner, break out that vodka, get a little cozy… maybe it’ll turn out to be a good night after all. 

Though Viktor isn’t readily visible, the lantern sitting on the stump outside of the tent sheds just enough light to show the dark silhouette in the tent burrowed in one of the sleeping bags. Feigning sleep? Or sleeping. It’s just like Viktor to sulk in bed. 

“Vitya, I’m back,” Yuuri calls, hoping that Viktor will be able to tell his change in mood. 

When there’s no response, he drops off his armful of kindling in the fire pit and tries again. 

“Are you taking a nap?” This time, he tugs teasingly at the tent flap, giving it a little shake. “I can get started on dinner if you want.”

Inside the tent, Viktor gives a soft sigh, somewhere between tired and sensual. It takes less than a second for Yuuri to decide to investigate, toeing off his shoes while dragging the zipper down its track in the netting and nylon. Like slipping out of his costume for  _ Eros. _

Viktor’s made himself a cocoon against the wall with both sleeping bags zippered together. It’s perfect for cuddling and  _ other _ things, which Yuuri admits may be one of the only things that works when Viktor gets like this. They’re supposed to be talking, but Yuuri isn’t one to hold back affection for long, especially if he’s hurt Viktor's feelings.

“Vitya…” Yuuri crawls across the tent and waits for Viktor to hum in acknowledgement. It’s dark in the tent, but that figure is unmistakable. He slips into the sleeping bag, coming up against his lover’s back, and gives himself a moment to soak up his warmth. Viktor’s been in the tent for a while, it seems. Incubating. Yuuri presses close enough to bury his nose into the soft hair at Viktor’s neck, and wraps an arm around his chest. “Hey,” he murmurs, lips brushing against skin with every syllable. “Are you still upset?”

All he’s given in response at first is another sigh, but then Viktor pushes back against him, body to body. Receptive.

Yuuri smiles. Viktor’s so predictable. He can’t resist being buttered up like this. Pressing a few more languid kisses, Yuuri runs his hand over the top of Viktor’s shirt, exploring the slope of his chest down to his torso, giving a sigh of his own. “You’ve been working out, huh?”   
A laugh. Quiet, almost purring. 

Of course he has. They’re skating all the time together. And jogging. Hitting the gym. Viktor’s been using weights, too. Yuuri loves to watch. “I can tell,” he whispers, spreading fingers wide over his bicep. “Your arms are bigger… you’re really starting to fill out, huh?”

“The better to hold you with, my tender pork cutlet bowl.”

“Aw.” Yuuri continues his giddy exploration, sliding a hand over Viktor’s hip to his thigh, fingers tracing the thickest part of the muscle. Viktor sounds a little sleepy, but that isn’t at all a bad thing. ”Your legs, though… I think  _ you’re _ the one that will be crushing skulls with these thighs, Vitya.”

He chuckles, body shifting to press up  _ closer _ , warmer. “The better to chase you with, my Yuuri…”    
Yuuri swallows. It’s so warm and comfortable in the sleeping bag, more now so than before; no wonder Viktor’s made himself a little nest. The thought of having Viktor chase him down is  _ nice. _ SO nice. Nibbling at his neck, Yuuri considers his next move carefully, opting to slip his hand under Viktor’s shirt, confirming taut muscles, smooth skin, and—    
Huh. 

“Didn’t you just get waxed?” As long as he’s known Viktor Nikiforov, he’s never had body hair before. He’s always been meticulous about it, even phobic, and yet…   
It’s suddenly quiet.

No wind. No birds. No frogs. No crickets. Just the sound of his breath and Viktor’s. The two of them. No constant, quiet panting in the background that he tunes out like Viktor’s seagulls. The facts click into place like pins in a combination lock, dials spinning until the truth has his heart pounding. “Viktor?”   
Instead of answering, Viktor- no, not Viktor, not  _ his _ Viktor, caresses the back of Yuuri’s hand with nails that are much too long.

No, not nails.  _ Claws. _

Yuuri leans his head back, tasting the air with a silent scream before he manages to collect himself enough to ask, shaking. “Where’s Makkachin?”   
The hand stills. “Oh. I don’t know.”    
“Maybe I should go find him.”   
“But Yuuri...”

He doesn’t wait, just scrambles from the sleeping bag. Back meets mesh. Hand fumbles for the zipper. In the dark, the Viktor-thing follows after, hair a silver sheen in the pale light from the lantern. 

“Yuuri,” he says, but the voice is all wrong now, too. Accent too thick. Voice too deep. “Why do you run away?”

The tent tips under Yuuri’s frantic hands and he tumbles out onto the dirt, which does nothing to slow him down. He runs barefoot, hard and fast, for the trees. 

He doesn’t know if he can outrun it. Not with those legs for chasing. If it catches him, he doesn’t want to think about what those claws or  _ anything else _ will do. But if Viktor is out there-  _ his _ Viktor -that means that he’s in danger, too, and he’s not about to leave him alone! 

Branches reach for him and rocks tear at his feet, but he runs down the path, not looking back until— 

“Yuuri!” 

Yuuri stops short, searching the trees in the dark. Then he hears the sound of Makkachin barking, and the forest becomes light again. “Viktor? Viktor!” 

Yuuri’s never seen the bear in Viktor before, but he sees it now as he crashes through the undergrowth one moment, then pulling Yuuri close against his chest, holding tight. “Yuuri! Yuuri! Oh, Yuuka!” His voice, pitched and broken with shaking sobs. “I’ve been looking for you— hours— I thought you— and I can’t! And your shoes?!” 

As Yuuri catches his breath, the forest around them sways with the life of forest at night. Even the air is buzzing. And Viktor, strong, proud five-time consecutive champion Viktor Nikiforov, trembles like a little lamb. Not a wolf at all. 

Yuuri puts his arms back around him, holding tight. “Shh. I’m sorry. I was…” he starts to say, but he doesn’t really have an answer. Even looking around the woods, he’s unclear as to where he is. Where he’s been. It’s not as dark as it was only a moment ago. “It’s a long story.”

“Please don’t leave... I can’t lose you, too.” 

The car. That’s why he doesn’t want to drive. His parents… 

“It’s okay, Vitya. I’m not leaving.”

“I know I need to open up more. I’m trying.”

“I know you are. Like you said, we can be patient with each other, right?”

Viktor kisses him, grateful, and they both laugh when Makkachin barks again, startling them from their embrace. “I think he’s hungry.” Taking a hand back, he wipes his eyes. “He was worried, too, though… right, Makka?”

But Makkachin isn’t paying attention to him, gaze fixed on the trees ahead, body rigid and a growl deep in his throat. 

“Let’s get back to camp. You know the way, Coach?”

“Yeah.” Viktor hands Yuuri his flashlight, staring down the dark where the fairytales come from. “I do. Come, I’ll carry you.” 

They stay together and safe the rest of the night.

The next morning, Yakov comes as promised and assists in looking for the doppelgänger’s tent, but all they manage to find are Yuuri’s missing shoes hanging in a tree right by their own campsite.

To this, the old man only sighs. “Welcome to Russia, Yuuri.”


End file.
